I am the Elizabeth Taylor of the feline world.

Monday, July 2, 2007

Redneck Hell and the Skanks Who Live Here

There are two times of the year which I detest:

The days between Christmas and the new year and the week before the 4th of July.

Why, do you ask would I detest what normally is such a festive time of year?

We live in redneck Hell.

Let me explain . . .

The back fence and the driveway of our home serve as the city limits. Our house is actually in "no man's land", which is great for taxes, but bad for certain concepts of civility, such as not shooting off fireworks 24/7.

The rule is those not living within the technical definition of the city are perfectly welcomed to shoot off whatever explosive devices they choose. Being that we are essentially part of the city line, we also get temporary new neighbors: the firework stands.

It's great. Girls dressed in American flag bikinis waving giant signs advertising explosives standing on the street for all to enjoy.

Brought to you by the same people who think Texas vs. Johnson is an abomination.

Brought to you by people who've never heard of Texas vs. Johnson.

Karen is so moved by such displays of patriotism, she want to cry.

Actually, Karen does want to cry. She's totally paranoid about a drunken redneck setting the roof on fire. Thankfully, it's been pretty wet on the gulf coast lately.

What is it about beer and fireworks? Do these things go hand in hand universally, or is just in redneck Hell? Personally, I would worry about losing a paw or worse if I were playing with explosives after downing a few.

You would think I live in Baghdad or Kabul with all this racket. Sadie and I hid under the bed for about two hours today because we were so scared.

Actually, that's not totally true. Sadie was scared. I was taking a nap. But the damn explosions outside our house woke me several times.

That I don't appreciate.

Karen isn't known for her tolerance about this. She doesn't like her sleep disturbed by such behavior, either. I've seen her on the phone with the sheriff's department in the wee hours of the night ranting about "disturbing the peace".

They've got to think she's crazy.

Anyway, since I didn't get my normal sixteen hours of sleep today, I'm pooped.

God bless America.

Go 'Stros.


Crabby McSlacker said...

My sympathies.

Even in the blueneck regions of this Country (more specifically the Oakland/Berkeley area on the Left Coast) assholes* still explode things. Not legally, but still. Felines are frightened and early-to-bed old fart humans are awakened and become even more Crabby than usual.

I hope you get the opportunity to bite one of the perpetrators at some point.

In the face, if possible.

*I'm hoping to keep your ratings in the proper category.

Penelope said...

I don't think I need to bite our redneck friends in the face. My thinking is alcohol and explosives are a hazardous combination. Eventually, someone is likely to lose an appendage, so why should I go to any trouble?

Go 'Stros